Sub-Standard Customers

| QLD, Australia | Right | August 1, 2017

(I have been working here for the last three years to pay for my science degree. I am the longest serving employee at the store, and the fastest server. The job pays reasonably well and all staff are expected to adhere to a high standard of appearance. The store I work in is located in a complex containing three other food outlets, just off a major national highway. It is not uncommon for families to come in and have members order from each of the different food outlets. A couple with three young children comes in around 5:30 pm. The mother comes to the counter while the father stays back with the kids. People usually do this when only one in the party is ordering.)

Me: “Hi there. What can I get for you today?”

Mother: “I’d like a foot-long white.”

Me: “Sure, what would you like on it?”

(We’ve had a busy afternoon and this is the last white foot-long I currently have cooked. Twenty more are in the oven.)

Mother: “Chicken and bacon.”

Me: “Would you like the sub toasted?”

Mother: *stares at me*

Me: “Sorry, would you like this sub toasted today?”

Mother: “Of course!”

Me: “And which cheese would you like?”

Mother: *huffily* “Whichever.”

(I put the sub into the toaster.)

Me: “Was it just that one sub today?”

Mother: *quite rudely* “YES.”

Me: “Okay, what salads would you like?”

Mother: “Yes.”

Me: “So all the salads?”

Mother: “NO. Just lettuce and tomato, jeez.”

Me: “Any sauce or salt & pepper on it today?”

Mother: “NO.”

(I take the sub out of the toaster, put on the salads and go to close it when she interrupts me.)

Mother: “I wanted ranch dressing!”

Me: “Sure.” *puts the sauce on the sub, go to close it again*

Mother: “And salt and pepper!”

(Puts on salt and pepper, closes sub, cuts it, wraps it and takes it to the till.)

Me: “That’ll be $10.95.”


(Fortunately there is no one else in the store so I go to the other end of the bench to make the next sub.)

Me: “Okay, sure. What bread did you want it on?”

Mother: “White.”

Me: “Sorry, but your other sub was my last white bread, the next plainest bread we have is wheat.”


Me: “Okay, your total is $10.95. Would you like a receipt?”

Mother: “Yes, you’re disgusting. I’m going to report you, you dumb b****!”

Me: “All right, have a nice evening.”

(They leave and I go out the back to my coworker who has heard the whole interaction.)

Me: “You’ll back me up when the complaint comes through?”

Coworker: “H***, yes. What a b****!”

(Later in the week, my boss sent an email to all staff regarding a complaint against our store which was registered at head office. I owned up straight away to being the server responsible. My boss forwarded me the official complaint and we had a good laugh over the customer’s poor spelling, grammar, and exaggerated retelling of the event. She even rated the cleanliness of the store 0 out of 10 because of “staff appearance”! I didn’t get in trouble; my boss actually gave me a gift card!)

I Am The Night… Shift Worker

| The Netherlands | Working | July 27, 2017

(There’s a new manager at the sandwich place where I work, who is also responsible for the timetables. He’s also a sucker for rules and an ass-kisser to his boss, so he is not particularly liked by the floor staff, as he always demands unrealistic new rules and recipes. Because of a loophole regarding my contract, he manages to schedule me for twelve night-shifts in three weeks. I decide to make the best of it, as I need the money. However, once I arrive at my first shift, I am surprised to see said manager waiting for me.)

Manager: “Hi, [My Name], [Coworker] called in sick so I’m filling in for her. You’ve got most experience with night-shifts, so I’ll just follow you. What’s your plan?”

(I’m suspicious and not happy to be thrust into the role of leader without any warning, but decide to give him the benefit of the doubt.)

Me: “Okay, so we have a lot of preparations to do for the morning, some sandwich toppings we need to prepare, we have to prep the dough and juice-bar, and serve any customer that comes in. I want to finish all toppings before our 2 am break, as well as the dough—”

Manager: *interrupting* “No, no, no. We can’t do the dough before the break. It will rise too much and the morning will have no use for it. Let’s do that after the break.”

Me: “After the break, we need to be ready to start the shift. We won’t have time to make the dough then and it will not be ready in time for the morning.”

(He insists we do it his way and I let it slide, hoping it’d be the only issue. Later…)

Me: “[Manager], could you go get ice for the sandwich bar and juice bar? We need to get that done before two.”

Manager: “No, if we do it now, the ice will melt too soon and the morning won’t have enough ice. Let’s do it after the break.”

Me: “Both dough and ice are major tasks, [Manager]. if we do both after the break, we either won’t get it done or we won’t be able to help any customers.”

Manager: “Yeah, yeah. I’m not going to get ice now. I’ll do it later.”

(Since I’m the only one on till, I can’t leave. This goes on all night. Whenever I suggest a task, he argues with me until I give in. He is extremely slow, leaving me not only to pick up after him, but also to help any customer who comes in and check if he did his tasks correctly. We end up staying more than an hour late, even though I have three more nights coming up. The kicker? When I came in to work next night…)

Manager: *yawns* “Wow, I’m really spent. I had no idea night shifts had this much effect on you. Good thing this is my last one.”

(It took a lot not to start shouting at him. Thankfully, I haven’t had any night-shifts with him again.)

Farmed Out Their Thinking

| Cedar Park, TX, USA | Working | July 20, 2017

(I am a night manager at a very popular sandwich chain. My coworker and I are prepping veggies for the next morning.)

Coworker: “I really want to visit the farm one day.”

Me: “Uh, what farm are you talking about?”

Coworker: “You know, the farm where they grow all of our produce.”

Me: “They grow our produce all over. There isn’t one farm. Our tomatoes are from Mexico, and our bell peppers are from California.”

Coworker: “Yeah, but I still want to see the farm where they grow everything. It must be huge!”

This Manager Will Break You

| IL, USA | Working | July 19, 2017

(I work in a seafood/sandwich shop. It’s Friday. I’m scheduled for a split shift; I come in and open. I live fairly far away and it doesn’t make much sense for me to get a ride home and back. It’s two and time for me to clock out. It’s been a store record-breaking busy lunch rush and I’m ready to relax for a couple hours. My relief, the assistant manager, comes in and I sigh exhaustedly and go clock out. I lean against the wall in the back and chat with my coworker.)

Coworker: “Break time, huh?”

Me: “Yep, I’m glad [Assistant Manager] showed up. I needed it.”

Assistant Manager: “Hey y’all.” *proceeds to sit down and pull out her phone*

Coworker: “Hey, [Assistant Manager], we got two orders to do.” *said as two more orders print up*

Assistant Manager: *continues to stare at her phone, not a care in the world*

Me: “She knows I’m off, right?”

Coworker: “She should.” *he shrugs and continues to cook for the orders*

Me: *watches as even more orders come in, sighs, and watches as the assistant manager continues to ignore the situation and heads off to get a couple of the orders out to help* “So much for a break”

Coworker: “Giving away free work again?”

Me: “Looks like it.”

(About 15 minutes of steady orders and continued ignorance of the assistant manager, I shrugged and clocked back in. If I had to keep working through my break I might as well get paid for it, right? The assistant manager ended up going to sleep right there until about two hours before closing time.)

Not Listening To The Meat Of The Matter

| England, UK | Working | July 13, 2017

(My partner and I went into a well known sandwich shop chain for our lunch. We both order the same sandwich called an ‘Italian BMT’. While the woman serving us is putting the meat on our sandwiches my partner notices that she’s put the incorrect meat on both of our sandwiches.)

Partner: “Excuse me, we both ordered the Italian BMT. There’s supposed to be ham on it.”

Cashier: “Oh, sorry I thought you said Spicy Italian.”

(I am confused as to how she mistook the two as the only word the same is ‘Italian’. She puts ham on both our sandwiches, but it’s still technically incorrect as now our sandwiches have too much pepperoni and salami.)

Cashier’s Coworker: “You can’t do that. There’s too much meat on them now.”

Cashier: “It’s fine. It’s better than remaking them and putting these down as waste.”

Cashier’s Coworker: “But you can’t do that!”

(They continue to bicker back and forth for a bit until the coworker goes and gets the manager. The manager asks what happened and the woman serving us explains.)

Cashier: “They ordered a spicy Italian and now have changed their mind to the BMT.”

(We ended up with too much pepperoni and salami, and I wished that I didn’t have social anxiety so I could have told the manager that we didn’t change our minds, and that the cashier just didn’t listen properly. I later found out from a friend who also worked there that this cashier was always doing things like that.)

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